I'm so stupid, I signed up and got the Zot.

[hk409]

THIS SITE IS ZOT!

GIMME A BRAKE ALREADY! YOU GUYS MUST BE THE BIGEST MORONS ON THE WORLD! THE BIGEST MORONS NEXT TO THAT SOFTWARE COMPANY I USED TO VISIT SIX YEARS AGO! OY YOY! YOY! YOY! YOY! YOY! YOY! YOY! YOY! EACH TIME I TRYED TO POST SOMETHING NO MATTER HOW SMART! NO MATTER HOW CONSERVATIVE! EVEN IF I BEND OVER BACK AND DO BACK FLIPS AND THEN BEND OVER FOR THAT DUMB LIBERAL WE UNFORTUNATELY ELECTED! EVEN IF SPELL CHECKER ARE WORKING I STILL GET THEN KICKED OFF!! THEN ZOTTED!! WHY? IS IT JUST BECAUSE I WRITE SO BRILLIANT? BOB RUNS THINGS HERE!? OKAY. OKAY. OKAY. OKAY. OKAY. MAEYBE PEEPLE LIKE JJFATE AND NOAH HORSEFLY IS ASKING FOR IT BUT WHAT ABOUT ME!

[Do not dub me shapka broham]

Hakeem "The Dream" Olajuwon sez:

Right on!

[Do not dub me shapka broham]

One of my favorite Web-based graphics!

:7)

[fanfan]

....the presumably empty shuttle....

Ummm, ....eh?

[fanfan]

LOL

Please tell me about ICE! :-)

[NicknamedBob]

Here's some nICE reading for you.

[NicknamedBob]

Shuttle flights to Earth orbit typically ferry things up there, and don't have much to load up for the return, except for tired astronauts.

On most other bodies in the solar system, landings and take-offs are both under rocket power, as was done on the moon. They don't have the luxury of an atmosphere to slow down with.

It's a mixed blessing. You can get into orbit with a lower fuel load, but re-entry through aerobraking can be hazardous!

With Nuclear rockets, fuel is very inexpensive, and more flights could be scheduled if needed because of reduced efficiency. However, the flight safety should increase enormously.

Be honest. Which would you feel safer in, the current Space Shuttle, or Burt Rutan's homemade shuttlecock jalopy?

[international american]

B R A V O

[NicknamedBob]

Ah! My favorite boisterous fan in the nosebleed section!

You guys might like this also, somehow it just doesn't get old...




The Poet at War

Wartime poets spill their souls, before they spill their blood,
Like trees which shed their leaves, before the cold comes like a flood.
Dropping lonely messages, in colors drab and bright,
Images of hope and loss, within that fall of night.

Scattered about in disarray, the thoughts and dreams of youth,
And stark against the bleak gray sky, a skeleton of truth.
These cries of anguish won’t be stilled. Their voices will not die.
The eyes of young men still will search the ever-darkening sky.

Until their hearts are answered, and peace can warm their dust,
Until expressions in their eyes have taught us what they must,
Until their long-lost belles have been wrung out of all their tolls,
Entreaties from the graveyard are engraved upon our souls.


NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . September 24, 2004

I may skip out for a bit tonight. I have a "Computer Club" meeting!

[fanfan]

That was very nice.

[tiamat]

That IS Good.

And Thank You for Sharing it.

(And i needed to go get a kleenex after that)

::::sniff::::

[Knitting A Conundrum]

Hakeem the dream....some people were born to hold a basketball in their hands....

[Monkey Face]

Hi, Honey! Are you home????

[Monkey Face]

As I've said before...I never tire of your poetry...you always speak to my heart.

[Tax-chick]

Siegfried Sassoon. I have his "Complete War Poems" on the shelf somewhere. Rupert Brooke. Rudyard Kipling.

[Genesis defender]

Hi, Honey! Are you home????

Why, yes I am.

[Tax-chick]

It's taking forever for messages to load, again. Only here, not the rest of FR.

[Tax-chick]

And then things that were here, disappear. Truly weird.

I wonder if we need to start "Son of the Undead Thread" before we hit the wall on this one. Would that open up the system again?

[NicknamedBob]

The unusually rewarding thing about "war poets" is that overall, they represent a young and vibrant group of people who are caught up in something that they recognize is much greater than their own limited worldview and knowledge.

They are filled with life, and a zest to live it fully, perhaps tempered by the recognition that all of it is at risk.

I guess a part of the poignancy is that I can't seem to recall any war poets who did not suddenly stop writing ... except for a few late bloomers here on the internet.

Perhaps it is something like my recognition that true comfort comes only by observing the contrast of what your possible discomfort might be -- every room with a fireplace needs to have a window.

We recognize the promise that these young bright minds represented primarily because we miss them.

Lord, how we miss them. We could use those bright minds and caring hearts in this all-too-often cold cruel world.

*Sniff*

[NicknamedBob]

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, --
- The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen

Owen, Wilfred, 1893-1918, English poet. Owen, who died on the French front in World War I,
wrote of the horror and pity of war in verse that transfigured traditional meter and diction.

Siegfried SASSOON published 24 of Owen's poems posthumously (1920).

The astute observer may note a small similarity of style and subject from this poem to the one I posted above. Call it inspiration. I especially love "...each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds..." --Ach. I can feel it!

[Do not dub me shapka broham]

Definitely!

I actually owned a Rockets-Knicks NBA championship shirt once, and kept it in my wardrobe for five or six years after '94.

Of course, from my standpoint, it wasn't so much a commemoration of a happy event as a testimonial to the coaching ineptitude of Pat Riley.

:(